Swings and Roundabouts
by Rietta
Summary: Mel catches Boyd smiling, and all sorts of secrets start crawling out of the woodwork... A little daft and OOC.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Waking the Dead or any of its episodes or characters. I'm just borrowing them for a trip down the pub- I promise I'll return them (sober!) in time for work tomorrow.

**Spoilers:** None really

**Rating:** K+

**Notes:** This is pretty daft and probably a little OOC, but I was bored! Hopefully you'll enjoy it, anyway. Dedicated to shadowsamurai83, pook and CatS81 as a little thank you for the warm welcome they gave me. ; )

**Swings and Roundabouts**

"What day is it?" Mel enquired as she stared at the closed door of her boss' office.

"Thursday," Spence informed her helpfully, without looking up from his paperwork.

"Oh," Mel replied blankly, the merest hint of puzzlement in her voice. "That's odd."

"Hmm?" Spence voiced his question as an encouraging murmur, eyes still trained on his paperwork; and Mel sighed.

"Well I thought Boyd was only bad tempered on days ending in a 'y'."

"And?" Spence enquired almost uninterestedly, the merest hint of impatience in his voice as he tried to figure out what on earth his colleague was driving at.

"Well he's- happy," Mel said slowly, and Spence glanced up sharply.

"What?!"

"He's happy," Mel repeated with more confidence. "He walked out of Grace's office with a great big smile on his face, and I swear he was humming."

The pair looked at the profiler's office. The blinds were drawn- an unusual occurrence. They looked at one another shakily.

"Jesus," Spence muttered. "You don't think..."

Mel shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Frankie demanded, entering the bullpen, astonished at the expressions on her colleagues' faces.

"Boyd is supernaturally happy, and Grace's blinds are closed," Mel explained cryptically.

"Ah," Frankie mused, smiling after a moment's thought. "Figures."

Her colleagues looked at her in astonishment.

"What? You're not.. freaked out?" Mel asked incredulously.

The pathologist shook her head. "Nah. I've suspected it for ages."

"Suspected what?"

The three jumped guiltily at the sound of Grace's voice, and a hint of suspicion awakened in their eyes. Grace didn't look especially happy. Mel and Spence fished quickly for a feasible excuse, torn between helping their friend or watching her dig herself a hole. But before they had thought of a single suitably believable reply Frankie answered the profiler without skipping a beat:

"That Spence loses at least twenty quid a week in silly bets."

"Ah," Grace nodded, apparently convinced.

The excuse rang a bell at the back of Spence's mind. "What are you looking so down about, anyway? I gave you twenty quid this morning cos you won that bet we had about how many times Boyd would shout yesterday."

"Yeah, but-" Grace began, but before she could get any further Mel's suspicious tones cut across her.

"Wait a minute... Would that be the twenty quid I gave you this morning for winning our bet on how long it would take to track down Parkman?"

Frankie looked shocked. "The same twenty quid _I_ gave _you_ this morning for winning _our_ bet on how many coffees Spence can spill in a day?" she demanded of Mel, and the Detective Constable shrugged.

"Probably."

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Grace.

"Anyway, you were saying?" Mel prompted her friend.

Grace smiled wanly. "I was saying that I just lost it to Boyd in a bet on how long it would take Spence to wheedle a confession out of Parkman."

Something struck Frankie suddenly. "Hang on, Boyd owes me twenty quid cos I won our bet on how long the case would last."

Grace laughed suddenly. "Looks like you'll be getting your money back, Frankie! I'll go and remind Boyd for you, shall I?"

Without waiting for an answer she got up and headed over to Boyd's office, entering without waiting to knock.

"What was all that about?" he demanded curiously- he'd been able to hear half the discussion due to his office door being ajar.

Grace chuckled as she shut the door, glancing futilely at the closed blinds as if she might magically be able to see through them. "Oh, nothing important. Just talking about betting." She leaned casually against the doorframe. "You apparently owe Frankie twenty quid, by the way."

Boyd grimaced, getting to his feet and wandering over to her. "Yeah, I know."

Placing a hand on her waist, he pulled her close. She smiled and slipped her arms around his neck.

"You know what?" she murmured softly as he leaned in closer. "I bet that little discussion has thrown them off the scent again..."

Boyd chuckled in reply. "Ah well, it was worth losing the money then!" And with that he kissed her.


End file.
